


A Woman in Blue

by Alice_Corvin (Zainir)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, F/F, Fluff, Gangsters, Jazz Age, lounge singer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 16:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zainir/pseuds/Alice_Corvin
Summary: In a 1930s bar, Lena Oxton stumbles upon the most unique lounge singer she has ever seen.





	A Woman in Blue

Lena Oxton stood across the street from the club, in the shadow just outside the circle of streetlight. _King’s Row_ was an unassuming building, its recessed doorway lit by the red neon of its sign. The two wide plate glass windows to either side darkened and blocked from within so that no light shone through. Only the sign indicated any sort of life or activity in the building.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself, shielding against the chill. It was late and the sky was filled with clouds, threatening rain. Beneath the stink of exhaust fumes and the general smell that came with living in a city, she could almost smell the rain. A passing car cast its light across the sidewalk and Lena pulled her collar up against, trying to shield herself from exposure. Not that it mattered, there was no one to see her. At least, there was no one that _she_ could see.

Taking a deep breath, Lena stepped out into the light and walked across the street. Her shoes clicked lightly on the pavement, audible in the unsettling quiet of the night. There was no one to see her or stop her as she slipped into the doorway. She hesitated before rapping her knuckles sharply on the metal. A slot opened at the top of the door, eyes peering out at her.

“Password,” the person demanded.

“Blackwatch,” Lena offered up, her stomach tight as she hoped it hadn’t changed.

There was a moment, the eyes narrowed at her, before the bolt slammed shut. Lena’s heart beat loudly in her chest. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not alone. If anything happened, there would be no one to help her. From the other side of the door, a heavy bolt clunked open and the door swung inward. A man in a dark suit stood on the other side, staring at her. She offered what she hoped was a confident smile. He snorted a small laugh before he stepped aside, motioning for Lena to enter.

“You coat and hat, miss?” he asked after he’d shut the door again.

“Ah, right, of course,” Lena said. She slipped out of her coat and handed her hat over, running a hand through her short hair. “Say, I heard there was a special show tonight. I haven’t missed it, have I?”

The man looked her over appraisingly, perhaps judging her appearance. She had dressed in a decidedly masculine manner, as she usually did. That night she was in a navy blue suit with single-breasted jacket over a double-breasted silvery blue vest and dark blue tie. It was a slim cut, not as loose as the usual menswear, fitting nicely to her slender form. She realized, a little late, that perhaps this was the wrong sort of venue for her to flaunt her style of cultural rebellion. Thankfully, the man simply turned to put her coat and hat in the closet.

“The Blue Widow? Nah, you ain’t missed her yet,” he said. “She should be on soon, so best to find a seat quick.”

Lena thanked him and turned, surveying the club before her. It was a wide room with everything centered around a central stage that jutted out into the center of the room. On it were two stools, a drum kit, and a piano in the back, plus a lone microphone at the end of the extension. Heavy crimson curtains hung in the back. Surrounding the stage were tables and chairs, though not as many as Lena would have expected. And most of these sorts of clubs, a higher class speakeasy, they might jam as many tables as they could for the extra money. But here they were sparse, spread out from each other like private islands. Lights were set along the wall, each with a red cover on it. Combined with the candles on the tables, they gave they gave the room a murky sort of light, like being surrounded entirely by stained glass.

She found herself a seat away from anyone else, but near the center of the room. It wasn’t very difficult, there were only a handful of other people there. Apparently, fewer people were interested in this show than she was. She hoped that wasn’t a sign of quality. A man with deep brown skin in a pinstripe suit sat in the back, speaking in low tones with an olive-skinned woman in a bright purple dress. Another man stood by the stage near a door to the back. He wore his long trench coat and hat even though his was indoors. He’d pulled the collar up and the brim down to hide most of his face. He was smoking, the red glow of his cigarette reflected in his visible eye. 

She had only just sat in her seat when a waiter came by to take her drink order. It was always a risk getting a drink in any sort of speakeasy. It was a good way to end up blind. God only knew what was in any of them or who had distilled them. Still, it seemed like a place that had the good stuff. A whiskey on the rocks sounded rather good.

The glass was set down in front of her just as the lights around the edge of the room dimmed. Four men walked out onto the stage, two sitting behind the piano and drums. The third lugged out a bass and the fourth sat down with a saxophone in hand. They warmed up quickly before settling into a soft, mellow song. Lena settled back into her seat, sipping her whiskey and taking in the comforting music. The two combined helped to settle her nerves, that and the quiet. She had expected louder, more troublesome, a situation where she had little control. This was nice. It would let her have a nice night even as she had a good look around the place.

In perfect synch, the musicians switched their song as the curtains in the back drew open. There was nothing but darkness until a spotlight somewhere behind her popped to life. Lena let out an audible gasp that she hoped no one heard. Setting down her drink, all she could do was stare. A woman, tall with full hips, stepped forward out onto the stage. She had black hair, long enough to reach the back of her thighs in long haves and pinned back from her face with a flowered band. Her dress was silver, shining in the light and clinging as if it were molten. But most striking of all, more incredible than anything else, was the fact that the woman’s skin was a beautiful, impossible shade of pale blue. The Blue Widow reached the microphone and began to sing.

“ _Like the beat, beat, beat of the tom-tom,”_ the woman sang, her voice low and husky. She laid a gloved hand lightly on the microphone as she scanned the room. “ _When the jungle shadows fall.”_

Lena just barely managed to close her mouth and stop gaping at the woman on stage. She’d never seen anyone like her, certainly no one with skin like that. Even ignoring that unique feature, the Widow was beautiful with high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes were bright and Lena could swear they were oddly coloured. She became even more certain when they fell briefly on her with a sharp, curious gaze.

The Widow raised one hand and pointed at various audience members. _“So a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you,”_ she sang, her gaze falling on Lena once more as she pointed at her. _“Night and day, you are the one.”_

Lena felt suddenly bashful, her cheeks growing hot with a blush and her heart fluttering in her chest. She felt like a schoolchild whose crush had said hello to them. She felt ridiculous. She’d been to shows like this before, she’d seen plenty of singers. She’d even been the target of lyrics and gestures, pointed at and singled out in a crowd. Lena was used to that, she was often fairly obvious. A woman didn’t dress like she did and then be inconspicuous.

This felt different. Maybe she was wrong, she probably was, but it felt that way to her. No other time had a singer made eye contact with her or held her gaze. They would sing at her, in her direction, but this Widow sang _to_ Lena. The lyrics stopped being for the crowd and became words for Lena alone.

She picked up her glass and took a drink, pulling her gaze away from the singer. She could only manage it for a moment before she looked back up to find the Blue Widow still looking directly at her. _“In the silence of my lonely room,”_ the Widow sang to Lena. “ _I think of you.”_

The song came to an end with a bright note from the saxophone. The Widow spread her arms out wide as if presenting the song to the audience, before bowing her head. The small gathering applauded enthusiastically for her, even the strange man by the door. It took Lena a moment to catch up as she had to shake the haze out of her head. Her heart was still racing no matter how she tried to calm herself back down. Then the Widow smiled at her. Her eyes met Lena’s, holding her gaze, and the Widow smiled directly at her. Lena felt like she was basking in the rays of the winter sun, a warmth that slashed through the chill to make it all the sweeter.

The band started back up and the night went on. The Blue Widow sang, her voice strong and clear. Lena watched, enraptured and unable to take her eyes off the woman. She sipped at her drink and motioned absently for another. The songs began to merge together, swirling into one each other as Lena tried and failed to listen. They didn’t matter to her, the words and music didn’t matter to her. What mattered was the singer. This strange woman with the blue skin. What mattered was the way she stood and the way she moved her arms. What mattered was the way her fingers danced in time with the music and the way her hair bounced with each nod of her head.

When the band stopped for good and the Widow took a small bow before retreating from the stage. It had seemed like the songs had gone on forever but at the same time none it lasted long enough. It was unlikely that she would ever see the strange, captivating woman again. Lena swallowed the last of her scotch and set her glass down with a clunk. She had come here for a reason, a reason that stopped mattering as soon as she had seen the crowd, and her trip had been a bust. There was nothing to do but leave and maybe try again another night.

“Aren’t you a lucky gal?” asked a voice next to her.

Lena looked over in surprise. The woman in the purple dress she had seen early was standing next to her, one hand on her hip. She was holding a small paper between gloved fingers, offering it over toward. Her lips curved in a mischievous smile when Lena took it to read.

_You are a different sort of woman than I usually see. More intriguing. I would be pleased if you would visit me. -Widow_

Lena read it twice before she looked up at the woman in the purple dress. The stranger raised her brows questioningly and Lena nodded silently in response. She stood and dug some money out of her pocket, leaving it on the table to pay for her drinks. The woman in purple rolled her eyes and let out an impatient sigh. Lena frowned and turned toward her, motioning that she was done. The woman spun on her heel and walked quickly across the lounge towards the single door to the back.

The strange man in his hat and coat stared at them. Smoke rose up from his cigarette, clouding the air in front of his face and making him seem insubstantial. The woman in purple waved a hand at him and he grunted, stepping out of their way. His gaze seemed to linger on Lena as she followed the other woman through the door and into the back of the house.

Beyond the door was a dimly lit, narrow hallway. They passed by a pair of doors on the left, but the right was smooth and unbroken wall. Lena thought the stage must be on that side, which was proven true when they turned a corner. Here the hallway opened up into a wider area filled with all the various items they would need for a show. There were instruments and chairs, the rigging for a swing, the curtain mechanisms, and boxes of things that Lena had no idea about. On the wall opposite of the stage were three doors and the strange woman brought her up to the one with placard that read _Blue Widow._ She knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in,” came the Widow’s voice from inside.

The woman in purple looked at Lena with a smirk before she motioned her on. Lena hesitated a moment before she opened the door and stepped inside. Sitting on a low couch was the beautiful woman from the stage. Close up, she was even more striking. Her skin was just as blue as it had been, it wasn’t any trick of the light. Her hair was so black that it had a purple sheen to it. And her eyes, which Lena thought had been odd, were a hazel so pale that they looked yellow. She had changed out of her dress and wore a thick white robe. She sat with her legs curled up to her side, bare feet on the couch.

“Close the door, would you?” the Widow asked. “Don’t need any strays peeping in on us.”

“Oh, right. Of course, ma’am,” Lena said as she shut the door behind her. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

The Widow’s eyes sparkled with playfulness. “Distracted? Whatever by? And please, you can call me Amélie.”

“Well, Amélie, I can’t say I’ve ever been invited backstage by a performer before,” Lena explained as she stepped further into the room, standing in front of the strange woman. 

“No? Surely you’ve caught the eye of someone before,” Amélie said. She waggled her fingers at Lena. “Dressed like that, especially. Surely you want to be noticed. How about you take your jacket off and get comfortable.”

Lena looked down at herself a moment. She certainly didn’t feel like she was dressed oddly, though she supposed suits weren’t exactly common womenswear. She undid the button on her jacket and shrugged out of it, hanging it over the back of a chair. Her white shirt wasn’t very loose to begin with, tighter around her middle than a typical man’s shirt. The silver-blue vest further contoured to her body, giving her a very compact appearance. It hugged at her waist and against her small chest. 

“My, my. Look at you,” the Widow breathed, her gaze wandering over Lena. “What do I call such a vision?”

“Lena,” she said. Her cheeks flushed and she suddenly felt more exposed than she was. “Lena’s good.”

“Lena is good, I agree. Come here, let me get a better look at you” Amélie asked as she crooked a beckoning finger.

Lena obeyed and stepped forward. Amélie sat up straighter and reached a hand out, pressing her fingertips to Lena’s stomach. Her hand slid upward, just shy of brushing over Lena’s breasts before moving back down. Lena shuddered under the touch, though she tried hard not to. Her thoughts were muddled. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be with this woman. She had a job to do. But, God, was it hard to gather the willpower to say no. Not beneath that touch, not at the teasing sight of Amélie’s breasts beneath her increasingly open robe, not as a finger began to undo the buttons on her vest. 

Amélie reached a hand up to Lena’s shoulder and pulled her gently down. Lena bent, her breaths coming quicker and shallow as her mind completely stopped working. All she could think about was the feel of Amélie’s fingers as they moved to grip the knot of Lena’s tie. She thought about the way Amélie’s lips looked, full and a darker blue than the rest of her skin. Lena obeyed the little touches that brought the two women together, their lips close enough that they could feel each other’s breaths. Amélie didn’t kiss Lena. Instead, she smiled.

“So, why don’t you tell me what brings a woman like you to such a dangerous place?” Amélie asked in a low voice. “Why are you here, Officer Lena?”

**Author's Note:**

> The song is [Night and Day by Cole Porter](https://youtu.be/PEM_63_P0CY) (as performed by Ella Fitzgerald).


End file.
